Falling in Love at a Coffee Shop
by Psychotic Female of Many Names
Summary: Edward goes to a small, unpopular coffee shop every day at exactly 8:30 A.M. He is always served by the same girl and sits down in the same spot in the corner armchair. He loves that little shop. But is it really the shop he loves, or the girl? All Human


**Falling in Love at a Coffee Shop**

_by Psychotic_

* * *

Disclaimer: I don't own the song "Falling in Love at a Coffee Shop" by Landon Pigg -- the inspiration for this story -- or any of the Twilight series and/or characters associated with that series.

* * *

_Eight-twenty-five._

I leave my apartment, locking the door behind me. I'm wearing my usual work attire: a button-down shirt, a tie, and dress pants. I'm heading down the stairs and into the parking lot, getting into my Volvo.

_Eight-twenty-six._

I turn on the radio once the car starts up. It's on that classical channel, the one that only calm, yoga-goers seem to listen to. I'm not a yoga-goer, but the soft sounds make me feel a bit better about heading to an awful job.

_Eight-twenty-seven._

I pull out of the parking lot and into the street. I wave to old Mrs. Luman, who smiles and waves back. She's always sitting outside when I leave for work.

_Eight-twenty-eight._

I can almost see the small shop that I'm heading to. That amazing coffee shop at the end of the road, tucked into a corner where no one can see it. I have no idea why it isn't more popular; they make amazing coffee.

_Eight-twenty-nine._

I park the car along the side of the road and turn it off. I sit for a moment before getting out and putting some money in the parking meter. I lock the car and walk away, heading to the scratched and old glass doors of the coffee shop.

_Eight-thirty._

The little bell on the door jingles as I open the door. I always get there at exactly eight-thirty; I've never been late. The young woman at the counter waves in a friendly manner. I smile at her. She's very pretty, but I don't think she knows she is. She has lovely chocolate hair and eyes, richer even than the coffee I'm now drinking.

_Eight-thirty-one._

I sip my coffee and sit down at the cushy armchair in the corner. The girl smiles and shakes her head. She knows that I always sit in the same spot every morning, always have the same coffee to drink, and always arrive at eight-thirty. I don't know her name, but she knows mine.

_Eight-thirty-two._

I would really like to know her name, I think. I'm a bit too much of a coward to ask her what it is, though. We have had a few words, but nothing too personal. I never took the liberty to ask her what her name was, however, and she never bothered to tell me.

_Eight-thirty-three._

The girl starts to wipe down the counter and I stand up. I always leave when she starts to wipe the counter. She looks up and smiles again, saying a farewell. I wave to her and say goodbye back before opening the door -- _jingle, jingle_ -- and going back to my car.

_Eight-thirty-four._

I get into my car and start it up. The station is still on classical. I pull out of the spot and drive off. I need to get on the highway to make it to work on time, that stupid, horrible job.

_Eight-thirty-five._

I look in my rearview mirror as I drive away to see the girl from the coffee shop standing outside and waving me off. She holds my forgotten coffee in her hand. I had forgotten it? There's two new occurances in my usually boring, dull life: the girl waving me off, and me forgetting my coffee.

_Eight-thirty-six._

Is this a sign?

* * *

_And it goes on and on..._

* * *

_Eight-twenty-five._

I grab my tie and pull it on. It just won't go on right! I groan and drop it, letting it hang there, half-tied, and pull on my shoes. I grab my keys and rush out the door, forgetting to lock it behind me.

_Eight-twenty-six._

As I run inside the car -- it's raining, great -- I splash in a puddle. Now the whole left leg of my dress pants is wet. I turn on the car once I'm in, and bump the radio dial in the process. The music blares out in an awful sound that makes me cringe. I quickly turn it off and am afraid to turn it back on again.

_Eight-twenty-seven._

I pull out of the parking lot and into the street. I start to wave to Mrs. Luman, but she's not there. She's not outside where she usually is. I want to stop and see what's going on, but I can't.

_Eight-twenty-eight._

I can see the coffee shop as I speed down the street. I'm running a bit late. This time, however, the door seems covered in something dark and the girl is standing outside the shop, her hands folded in front of her.

_Eight-twenty-nine._

I park the car along the side of the road and turn it off. I instantly get out and forget to put money in the meter. I rush up to the girl and ask, "What's wrong?"

_Eight-thirty._

The girl looks up at me and says, "The coffee shop's been closed down. When I came in to work this morning, this is how I found it." She looks back down at her feet, but not before I see tears in her eyes. It shocks me that she was just as attached the shop as I was.

_Eight-thirty-one._

I decide something that may be a bit drastic. I pull the girl into my arms and kiss her head. "It'll be okay," I said, even though I doubt it myself. Holding her in my arms, though, seems to begin pushing those doubts away.

_Eight-thirty-two._

I would really like to know her name, I think. It's time I asked her. So I say, "What's your name? I'm Edward. Edward Cullen." She looks up at me and smiles. "Isabella Swan. Bella."

_Eight-thirty-three._

I know that I'm running late, but I ask, "Do you need a ride? I can give you one, if you'd like." Bella nods and I open the passenger side door for her. She gets in and so do I and then we're off.

_Eight-thirty-four._

"It's over there," she says, pointing. I turn down the street and continue on. "Will I ever see you again?" she asks. I glance over at her, but she's not looking at me. "Of course you will," I say. "You can give me your number. I'll have to call you. I would love to see you again."

_Eight-thirty-five._

I pull into the parking lot of an apartment building she says is hers. She hands me a slip of paper with her cell number written on it and leaves, saying goodbye. I wave and drive off.

_Eight-thirty-six._

I'm going to be extremely late for work, I think. Well, I'll get fired from my awful job, and I'll be able to find a new one, a better one.

_Eighty-thirty-seven._

Yes, it is a sign.

* * *

**A/N: **So what do you think? I thought it was cute, and I had soooo much fun writing it just now! xD It's only going to be a oneshot, though, so _DON'T ASK ME TO CONTINUE IT._ Thank you. xD 

I was inspired by the song "Falling in Love at a Coffee Shop" by Landon Pigg. Very good song! I suggest you listen to it.

Review and be happy!

_Psychotic Female of Many Names_

_03.10.08_


End file.
